Transformation
by Beccorsola
Summary: Marked complete, but is actually incomplete. TO BE REWRITTEN. Dramoine, set pre-War in seventh year of Hogwarts. Hermione is assigned to watching over the newly-turned werewolf Draco. Rated M for the future.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello! This is my first story, and I hope you enjoy the first chapter ~_

**_Disclaimer:_** _Just to make it clear, I don't own any of the characters in this story. I also don't make money from this story - it's purely just for pleasure. _

_This goes for all the chapters of 'Transformation' :)_

**Summary:** The war hasn't yet started, and the Golden Trio are back in Hogwarts for their seventh year. Draco Malfoy is also a student, but his summer hadn't been kind. Assigned to watching over the new werewolf, Hermione finds herself drawn. Rated M for the future

* * *

><p>As she strode determinately through the numerous corridors of Hogwarts, Hermione's thoughts were all jumbled up and loud in her head, a conflicting war between the logical and emotional aspects of her personality. Not for the first time since she left the classroom, Hermione sighed heavily. Hearing her name called out, the young woman almost ignored the greeting but the ingrained politeness prevented her from doing so. Looking up, the witch transformed her expression to be blank, preventing her thoughts from being superficially revealed.<p>

A young perky Ravenclaw student she vaguely recognised from somewhere bounded up, barraging her with questions over certain lessons. Hermione could feel herself standing up straighter, her brain calming as she slipped into her role. Answering the student's questions one at a time, the witch's lips crooked into a polite smile as the young girl thanked her and dashed away. Hermione was a Head Girl now. Something she had worked her bloody arse off the past couple of years to achieve.. And it was the worst timing. If she was going to be melodramatic, she'd say it was the worst timing _ever_. But she wasn't going to. That'd be stupid.

Her shoulders shrugged in annoyance, and Hermione continued on her way toward her private room. She couldn't help thinking of the argument she and Harry had just had, a mere half hour ago. Merlin, that short ago? Sighing, Hermione walked up the stairs, stopping at the appropriate times. She was so caught up in her thoughts, she actually missed out other students' calls to her, missed the looks they gave her. Today should have been the best day of her life! She'd looked forward to this very moment, and she should have had Harry there alongside her. But because of _him_, everything was different. Her face crumpled into a scowl. Bloody Draco Malfoy!

* * *

><p>Approaching the portrait that shielded the entrance to her quarters, Hermione muttered the password, her tone and mindset grim. Bloody Malfoy. No, never mind Malfoy. Bloody Snape. Bloody McGonagall. Bloody Voldemort. Bloody Fenrir Greyback! Hermione's lips crooked into a bitter smile. If her friends, if even her teachers, knew what was occurring in her brain that very moment, she was sure they'd collapse on the spot.<p>

Watching as the portrait slid open, the young witch slipped through and stomped her way into the common room area, dumping her bag onto an armchair. The Slytherin she was rooming with was nowhere to be seen, and the brunette couldn't help but raise an eyebrow though she had no reason to be surprised. It was just.. It didn't matter. It wasn't like she was his keeper. She couldn't help but laugh, devoid of humour, as she focussed on her latter thought. Annoyed with herself, with the events of the day, she dropped her tense shoulders and went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She deserved it.

As she bustled about, she thought back to the argument. She honestly hadn't expected Harry to be so.. Well. Angry. His reaction reminded her so much of Ron, she couldn't help but gape when Harry spat his furious words at her. His accusations had been so sharp, Hermione was surprised that she didn't bleed. And you know what made the whole thing worse? It wasn't the fact that it'd started over Malfoy. It was because she'd put _him_ before Harry, her best friend, and she refused to tell him why. As she'd stood in front of the dark haired boy she'd loved since she was twelve years old, Hermione knew she'd changed their relationship. She watched as Harry's eyes had clouded with disappointment, watched as he took a step backward – away from her – and stepped out the room. She watched, and chose not to share the secret she held in her heart.

* * *

><p>Hearing a familiar swish, Hermione's expression tightened and her lips curved downward into an unbecoming scowl. Having glanced up, the female forced herself to turn away and instead poured her tea. She couldn't focus, however. How could she? <em>He<em> was here.

"Granger, you're spilling your liquid."

Glancing down, Hermione watched blankly as the boiling water splashed onto the counter. Angling her wrists, she prevented the kettle from spilling anymore, and without a word, set down the appliance before wiping the water with a cloth, the Muggle way. She didn't reply to Malfoy's quiet murmur, instead pouring out her tea. It was ruined. She couldn't even make herself a cup of tea. Hearing the blonde wizard clear his throat several times, Hermione conceded she was being rude and glanced up. Merlin, she couldn't get used to the change. Hermione stiffened as she felt a physical ache in her chest to see just how much.

He looked.. Not unlike himself, but not completely himself. He'd grown over the summer. She estimated he was around 5'11, almost his father's height. It didn't suit him – he was far too slim for such a frame. She couldn't guess to what his weight was, but even she could tell he'd not eaten well. He had no muscle, but he wasn't soft either. He was sharp, his bones jutting out. He was beautiful, but hauntingly so. His skin was almost ivory, the greyness under his eyes obvious. It wasn't just his appearance that'd changed. He was quiet now. Disturbingly quiet. There was no bite to his words, no superior sneer on his thin lips, no sense of haughtiness about him. He just seemed.. Blank. Un-Draco Malfoy- like. Hermione sighed, ignoring the silence that'd grown between the two of them, ignoring that she had been staring at him hard and obvious. She merely watched as Malfoy's jaw tightened, his adam's apple shifting. She didn't say a word, simply crooking her eyebrow up. If she were to see herself, she'd be surprised at just how.. Slytherin she looked at that very moment. It wasn't only Malfoy who'd changed over the summer. At that look, the blonde wizard exhaled quietly and turned away, heading for his personal bedroom. Only when he closed the door behind him did Hermione relax. They'd only been back at school two days, and already she was struggling.

Seventh year was going to be _hard_.

* * *

><p>Staring at his fingers, splayed out on the door he'd just closed, Draco marvelled. He could almost see the bones, the muscles and flesh thin. Dropping his hand, nauseated by the fascination, the Slytherin turned and surveyed his room. It was plain, but sizeable. As his vivid blue eyes scanned the room, Draco wondered if it'd been manipulated to be larger than usual to tend to his.. Condition. Closing his eyes temporarily, Draco's body swayed slightly as his mind was assaulted with memories. It only seemed to get worse daily, to the point he seriously considered lifting his wand to his head to Obliviate the hell out of himself. Only one thing stopped him, and he could never be sure if he hated or loved the woman for it.<p>

Opening his eyes again, Draco walked simply to the desk he'd secured in the corner of the room and sat down in the companion chair. Once his buttocks made contact with the furniture, Draco leant back and dropped his head backward as his hearing – more acute than ever – picked up on Hermione Granger's actions. He couldn't even muster a sneer as he thought of how his father would react if he knew he was rooming with the girl. Nor could he push himself to _feel_, as he thought over how he himself would have reacted. There'd been too much change over the past year for him to trifle over petty things. Hermione's Mudblood status was one of these petty things. How could he judge her over her blood, when he was in worse position?

Hearing a clatter and a muffled curse, Draco's thoughts switched to the young witch. She'd changed. He had always seen her as a short irritating girl who fawned around Potter, only noticeable when she was being a little know-it-all. But now.. It was difficult to explain. Before, she had soft features and seemed to have an innocent and enthuastic view on life. Then Dumbledore happened. Voldemort happened. Summer happened. Draco was perplexed at how readily he noticed the change. On how quickly he picked up little things that were now essentially Hermione. He chose to put it down on his change. His senses were more aware now, and he was still learning to control them. It was nothing if he looked at the girl a bit longer than most, especially because he always caught himself in time. At this point, it'd do him no good to find himself in trouble with McGonagall. He was lucky enough to be allowed back in Hogwarts for the final year. With a sigh, Draco's eyes opened and focussed intensely onto the ceiling. He really was lucky. And it was thanks to Hermione Granger. The girl whose life he was partially responsible for destroying.

Hearing faint footsteps heading toward his doorway, the blonde wizard stiffened. He could smell stale parchment mixed with a hint of jasmine. Draco's brows smoothed as the brunette witch passed his door, listening as a door made a 'shh' sound in response to being closed. The young man turned his head toward their adjoining bathroom, but couldn't hear any pottering about. She must have gone into her bedroom. Standing up unsteadily, the wizard walked to his own door and clasped his hand around the handle. Hesitating, Draco sniffed. Hermione's scent was stronger, and he was filled with need to open the door and envelop himself into the smell. It was almost.. Comforting. With that thought, Draco frowned and released the door handle. He didn't need comfort. He was a Malfoy, after all.

With his father's voice ringing in his head, Draco turned away and returned to his desk. There were certain Head Boy duties he could not attend to, so to ensure the wizard did not have too much time on his hand, he was given additional schoolwork. It was a shame he wasn't Hermione Granger. She probably would have worked herself into a frenzy with this. Glancing down, the wizard dismissed the girl from his thoughts as he picked up a quill and got started.

* * *

><p>His eyes stinging and his neck aching, Draco placed the quill flat down on the desk and lifted the palm of his hand to the back of his neck, stroking the skin. Lifting his head, the Slytherin looked toward the window and noticed that the stars had come out. He'd lost track of time, so caught up in completing his coursework.<p>

Standing slowly, a husky groan slipped from his lips as his body complained. He had discarded his school robes earlier, and his nimble fingers went to the buttons of his plain white shirt. Within minutes, he was topless, the shirt folded and placed atop the chest containing his other clothes. He'd either put them away later, or most likely an House Elf would wash it for him. Aiming toward the bathroom, he stopped by his bed – situated in the middle of the room, against the wall – and sat, bending at the waist to untie his shoes. The little job done, he arranged them neatly under the bed before peeling off his plain black socks. Folding them, he dumped them on the floor beside the chest, a sign he wanted them washed. Loosening the button of his trousers, he simply stepped out of them before folding them. Lessons you were taught as a child were a hard habit to break. Clad in just his dark green boxers, a colour you could call Slytherin, Draco rubbed a hand over his eyes. Merlin, he was tired.

Turning, he walked toward the bathroom, ignoring the cold stones beneath his bare feet. As he approached the door, he tried the knob and found it to be open. Granger must be asleep. He didn't even know what time it was. Opening the door, he stepped into the bathroom. His mother would have referred to it as 'quaint'. Meaning small. It was practical however, and the young Malfoy had no complaints. Muttering a small spell, he locked both doors into the bathroom and did his functions. As he washed and dried his hands, Draco's eyes were caught by his reflection in the wall length mirror. He couldn't help but stop, stare.

Lifting a hand to his torso, Draco watched as his thin fingers stroked the faint scar that had been inflicted by Harry Potter. It was one of the worst feeling he had ever felt.. At that time. He could still recall how it had felt. Like a knife going into butter. His skin, his body, had no resistance to the invisible sword that had easily sliced into him. The small slashes had healed but the single and final cut had been the deepest. It had almost taken his life. Recalling the efforts his godfather had put into keeping him alive, Draco trailed a finger from the beginning to end of the scar. It went from his left shoulder across his torso, his abdomen, his right hip and ended high on his right thigh. It'd been so deep that he'd live with the scar his remaining life. His eyes flickered from where his hand resided on his hip to his expression. Even as he crooked his head, his expression didn't change. It was neutral. Even as a small 'heh' came from his particularly open mouth, his lips didn't crook. His eyes remained flat. His face remained smooth. Shaking his head, he turned away from himself.

As he walked away from the mirror, he too ignored the scar on the back of his left shoulder. The most significant scar he'd ever have. The most secret scar he'd ever have. It was a scar that was intended to destroy his life. It would never heal. It was the scar of a deep bite. With a sigh, Draco switched the lights off, bathing his body in the dark as he slipped into his bed. Having swallowed a Dream-less Potion, the wizard was soon fast asleep, his brain finally blank.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you very much for reading! Reviews would be much appreciated - your thoughts and opinions helps ~<em>

_I'd also like to thank Blackfirm for being an amazing friend and unofficial Beta. Much much much appreciated :)_

_Beccorsola XxX_


	2. Chapter 2

Yawning, Hermione lazily lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she quietly pottered about in the kitchen of the common room she shared with Malfoy. She hadn't slept well – nothing new – and woke early as a result. Muttering, the witch checked the time and noticed it was barely six in the morning. With an internal eye roll, Hermione ignored the kettle and went instead to the fridge. It was far too early to have a cup of tea, especially since the kettle boiling would wake up the Slytherin. As it was still summer, the natural light was beginning to stream in and Hermione was able to see well. She reached for the milk, deciding to have cereal. As she closed the fridge door, Hermione startled so badly she released the milk bottle.

"Shit!"

The bottle shattered on the stone ground, showering her bare feet with small shards of glass and milk. Flinching, Hermione jumped back, watching as small indents of blood seeped through minor cuts on her feet. She yelped as her upper arms were clenched almost roughly, her eyes shooting straight to the culprit's. He was silent as he lifted her up from the broken glass she'd stumbled back onto, placing the witch onto the counter table. Ignoring Hermione's raised eyebrow, and the questions in her eyes, Draco turned his back to her and muttered a spell, watching as the mess he'd incidentally created were swept up. When he turned back to Hermione, she was already attending to her feet, healing them. Draco couldn't help but sigh silently in relief. He didn't think he could handle touching her again, having her blood touching him. He already felt guilt for merely watching as she stepped into the glass in the first place, felt guilt for feeling hunger as her blood dripped to the floor.

"What're you doing up, Malfoy? I didn't hear you."

Draco didn't look at Hermione, as she thought he would, when she queried him. Instead he turned away, switching the kettle on. His familiarity with Muggle appliances surprised the witch. As Draco opened a cupboard door, pulling out two mugs, his jaw clenched and unclenched. His adam's apple bobbled, and it was a moment before he could reply. When he did, his voice was low and tight.

"I heard you. So I woke up. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Her feet healed, Hermione rubbed her thumb over the skin before dropping her legs to dangle from the counter. She had about given up on Malfoy replying when he surprised her once again. Her eyes narrowed on the side profile of his face, watching his throat. He had struggled to speak normally yesterday, and it seemed today was to be the same.

"Ah, I see. I'm sorry then, I tried to be quiet for you but clearly not well."

There was a small silence that was interrupted only by the kettle boiling. Draco turned slightly and looked at the older witch's face, his eyes cloaked.

"You know that wasn't it."

Hermione paused, before giving a small nod, conceding to his statement. She shouldn't have been surprised he heard her. She watched as he turned away from her – something that gave her the sensation of déjà vu, something she brushed off – and poured the water into both mugs. Her eyes dropped to his fingers, watching as he stirred and drained the tea bags. Before he could turn and ask her the question she was sure would be on the tip of his tongue, Hermione spoke up.

"I take two sweeteners and a bit of milk. Not milky though."

She watched the wizard give a curt nod, sliding from the counter to seat herself at the table in the room. From her 'observations', she could see that Draco was painfully polite. He'd bring her mug to her without a word. Frowning at the new aspect of the Slytherin's personality, Hermione wished she could be.. Well, Hermione. She wanted to grill him, force him to tell her everything. Everything to do with Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Voldemort, Death Eaters, Greyback.. His mother. But it wasn't the time. She'd have to wait. But not for her tea, which was promptly planted in front of her. Hermione glanced up, but murmured her thanks to Malfoy's retreating back.

Reaching the kitchen counter, Draco picked up the new milk bottle and deposited it back into the fridge. Closing the door, he picked up his own tea – plain and black – and leant back, his hip bones uncomfortably jarring against the hard wood. He ignored the discomfort, blowing onto his tea. His eyes were on the witch, taking in her appearance this morning. Her hair was unruly, messily falling out of the bun Hermione must have put in last night. Her eyes were tired, faint smudges underneath. She'd not slept well. She still smelled of parchments and jasmine. Draco's eyes dropped from Hermione's face to her chest, reading the message on her loose t-shirt. Something obscure about bacon. He imagined it most likely belonged to her Muggle father as the shirt was too loose and ill fitting to have belonged to a woman. His eyes dropping lower, he saw that she wore a plaid baggy pyjama bottoms and her feet were bare. She looked normal. It was refreshing for him to see, even if it was Hermione Granger. But even with the normalcy, Draco could see that the witch sat at the table, sipping her tea, was different. And the thought reminded him of yesterday. Yes. She was harder. You could see it in her eyes.

She'd grown up too early, and seen things that seventeen year old girls should never have to see. It used to be once that by murmuring the word Mudblood, you'd have her bottom lip wobbling. He doubted she'd do the same now. And it wasn't just her personality, her attitude, that'd changed. He couldn't help it. Her body had changed. She'd lost weight. She was never plump, but she had been a young seventeen year old girl who was average. She'd also grown. He wasn't sure how he could tell, because she was still short. He guessed she was around 5'6 now, so maybe a couple inches worth of growth. She hadn't been curvy before, but with her weight lost, she had a more pronounced waist. When he'd touched her earlier, he could feel the muscles in her arms. She was fit, and he guessed that her naked body would be more athletic than soft. Thinking of Hermione naked, Draco's cheeks flushed slightly before he continued with his thoughts. He'd say her breasts had filled out more too, but overall, not that much of a change physically. It was more of.. Sense. Hermione Granger wasn't the same person as she was a year ago. But then, he didn't think anyone was.

Dropping his eyes to his mug, he gulped down the hot liquid. Letting out a breath, he placed it in the sink to be washed later. As he went to leave the room, he paused by the table for an instant. When the witch looked up at him, Draco avoided her eyes and simply left.

Hermione watched as the wizard stepped into his room, closing the door behind him. Mere minutes later, she heard the shower switching on. Wrapping her hands around the still hot mug, the brunette thought of Malfoy. She was completely aware that he thoroughly checked her out, but it had felt so clinical, she hadn't felt flattered. Or uncomfortable. It had just been an odd sensation. And she'd checked him out as well, so it was fair all the way around. Tit for tat, as her father would say. Remembering the phrases, Hermione smiled faintly. It wasn't a happy smile. Forcibly shaking the thought from her mind, she instead focused on Malfoy. He'd been wearing plain black _cotton _sweat pants, and a worn grey t-shirt. They didn't look like he slept in them, however, and Hermione gathered that he slept either in his underwear or in the nude. With his new politeness, she would have placed her bets that he slept in his pants. How odd it was that he wore cotton. It didn't even look expensive. Hearing the whine of the shower being switched off, Hermione finished off her tea and popped it into the sink beside Malfoy's mug and headed off to her room. She'd have a shower, and knuckle down on her coursework. Checking the time once again, she noticed it was only six thirty am. She still had plenty of time to spare, time that would be going into her education. It wasn't like Malfoy was going to cause havoc anyways.

* * *

><p>Her quill flicking as she completed the final sentence, Hermione set it aside and scanned the essay she'd just finished for her Potions class. Snape was no longer a teacher of Hogwarts, but that didn't mean she could relax. His replacement was just as dedicated to his position, professional and hardworking. Hermione liked that – she needed to be tasked to stop her brain overloading with everything else. Satisfied with herself on the essay, the young witch blew on the ink lightly and rolled the parchment once the ink was dry, tying it with a thin piece of ribbon before slipping it into her messenger school bag. Hearing movements, Hermione checked the time and found it to be seven thirty three am. The Halls would be open now, for breakfast. Did she want to go down? She still hadn't spoken to Ron, Ginny, her other friends yet – the past couple of days had been so busy with the classes. <em>And with Malfoy<em>.

Her shoulders tensed up as she automatically thought to the fight with Harry, and she scowled. When would she get past that? Forcing herself to relax, the brunette walked over to her chest and opened it, surveying her clothes. Though she could be more relaxed in her clothes choice, Hermione wanted to look like she was a student. She wanted to fit in. This would be her last year of doing so.

Stripping off her pyjama bottoms and her dad's t-shirt, Hermione unceremoniously shoved them under her pillows without folding before striding back to the open chest. Despite being clad in only her simple cotton knickers and bra, Hermione held no sign of inhibition. Her summer had been spent with Ron and Harry, running from here to there, being forced to think of nothing but survival. It had changed the way she thought, the way she felt, the way she viewed the world. She wasn't ashamed of her body, toned from her excursions. If anything, she was proud. It proved that she wasn't just there to be a book to the 'Chosen One' and his 'sidekick'. She worked damn hard, harder than her two best friends, and her body was proof.

The moment Dumbledore had died, Hermione was forced to change. She had to become a rock for so many people. Harry, Ron, Hagrid.. McGonagall. She grew a second skin that seemed to have settled on her permanently, forced her brain to go blank to prevent herself from going crazy with the things she'd seen. She shed her fear of the unknown, and forced herself to walk through life with confidence until it felt natural. She wasn't a seventeen year old girl who'd stay a step behind Harry, stepping forward only to help him, forced to be content staying in his shadow. She was responsible for her own future, and she wasn't going to give anyone else a chance to take it from her. Pushed by her internal pep talk, Hermione was determined to make the day a good one. She'd go to the Halls, sit with her friends and have a conversation. She wasn't going to let Harry ruin this for her.

Bending at the waist, ignoring her back's complaint, the witch pulled out an assortment of clothes and dumped them on the bed. Picking up a pleated charcoal skirt, she stepped into it and pulled it up her slender legs, buttoning it at her waist. Twisting it so it sat on her right, she smoothed the material and tugged slightly so it'd cover her knees. Picking up a white blouse, Hermione muttered at the crease. Usually she'd iron it out, but she didn't have the patience today. Muttering a small charm, she watched as the heavy creases magically disappeared and smiled. She loved magic sometimes. Slipping into the material, she buttoned it from bottom to top, only leaving the top two free. It didn't reveal anything but her neck, so she had nothing to worry about. Picking up her Gryffindor tie, she looped it around her neck and efficiently tied it. Running her thumb over the material, Hermione once again curved her lips into a small smile. She had always loved the colours, red and gold. Strong and vibrant. Dropping her hand, she picked up a dark grey sweater, pulling the v-neck gap over her head. Tucking her tie underneath, Hermione smoothed it over her body. It was a bit too loose on her now. Tonight, she'd have to remember to resize everything to be more form fitting.

Planting her rump on her bed, the witch slipped her feet into natural coloured tights, standing to pull the thin material over her hips. Sliding her feet into her plain black Mary Jane shoes, Hermione wriggled to get it to fit properly before standing in front of her body length mirror to check out her appearance. She looked.. Acceptable.

Except for her hair. Her brows creased as her eyes roved over her barnet critically. Pulling it out of the messy bun she'd put in last night, Hermione muttered as she realized she'd forgotten to shower. She was clean, so it wasn't a hygiene issue. It was just her hair. It was wild, like a lion's mane. Her only consolation was that as she'd grown in the summer, her hair had changed. It wasn't as bushy or coarse as it used to be. It was smoother now, and ended naturally in ringlet-like curls. Running her hands through her hair, Hermione fluffed it up to be bouncy, shaking her head to free some curls. Brushing aside her now too long fringe, the witch muttered and watched as it was trimmed. Now you could see her eyebrows. She used to be embarrassed of them. They'd been almost as bushy as her hair. As an early birthday gift, Molly Weasley had treated her to a make-over – and this had included her eyebrows. Hermione was glad she had conceded to the older witch, because she had to admit that she looked much better for it. Her eyebrows were delicately arched, drawing attention to her big eyes and cheekbones. At the time, she had felt ashamed over her vanity. But now, she revelled in it. She'd be bloody proud of her appearance if she wanted to!

With a small laugh, Hermione turned away and picked up her school bag.

* * *

><p>Entering the Halls, Hermione ignored the brief pause of conversation and strode to over to Gryffindor table. She smiled as numerous people called out their greetings, lifting her fingers to wave lightly at some. She could see two redheads sitting opposite each other, the colour of their hair varying. They seemed to be in an intense conversation – they hadn't noticed her yet. Stepping over the bench, Hermione sat down beside the male Weasley and popped her bag under her legs.<p>

"Morning."

Both Ron and Ginny Weasley shut up immediately, turning their gaze to her. The female Weasley forced a smile to her lips as she murmured a greeting in response. Ron, however, didn't bother with the pleasantries.

"Merlin! When did you get here?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow as she reached out, picking a piece of toast.

"Just now, Ronald."

Ron flushed, flashing a look at Ginny. The silence was getting awkward now, and Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring the Weasleys' surprised looks. They still couldn't get completely used to their friend's change. Ginny spoke up, her voice soft.

"We were just speaking about.. Quidditch. I'm going to apply to be on the team. Ron doesn't think it's a good idea –"

"Of course it's not a bloody good idea-!"

"Ron! Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet are on the team. And I know Demelza Robins is thinking about applying as well. So don't you dare say girls can't do it. I can do it, and you know it!"

Hermione smiled as Ginny cut off Ron, pushing onto him her side of the argument they've clearly had before. Switching her eyes from Ron's scowl to Ginny's determined expression, Hermione's smile faded. The younger girl was no longer shy, and she knew that Molly's hair was going grey prematurely over stress. Ginny knew her own mind already, and from what Hermione read in her letters, she wasn't letting anyone try to change it. It made Hermione both proud and sad as she watched the girl animatedly argue with her brother. Hearing Ron growl, Hermione laid her palm onto his thigh and turned to face him, speaking when he went silent.

"Ronald, you won't change her mind. You know better than anyone just how capable Ginny is."

After a moment's silence, Ron sulked. Ginny's face broke into a vibrant smile, flashing Hermione a thankful look. Hermione couldn't help but smile back, pleased that her opinion still mattered to the Weasleys. With a small sigh, Hermione brought up the one person she was sure they were actually talking about before she walked in.

"So.. Where's Harry?"

The following silence proved her right. They knew. Having finished her toast, Hermione stood up, her bag on her shoulders.

"I thought so. I'll see you guys around."

As Hermione walked away, she couldn't help but let her mind linger on Ginny's expression. She'd looked away from her, an unreadable expression in her eyes. What had that look meant? Hearing her name, the witch turned her head and stilled, waiting for Ron to catch up with her. Once he was alongside her, Hermione stepped forward, forcing the redhead to follow her pace. They were silent for several minutes before Ron stopped, his fingers gripping her wrist. Glancing around, he found the hallway empty.

"Mione, are you sure?"

She knew what he was referring to – how could she not? – and gave a short nod. He didn't know the real reason, and like with Harry, she wasn't going to tell him. When the wizard sighed, his eyes roving over the witch's face, Hermione returned the look. He'd shot up over the summer. Taller than Harry, Ronald Weasley was about 5'10. His hair was shaggy, and Ron had developed a habit of raking his hair back from his face – it reminded her of Harry. The colour had darkened, going from almost carrot-like to near auburn. It was close to Ginny's current colour, dark auburn. The Weasley freckles were prominent on Ron's face – heavier after their summer, exposed to the sun. Like her, he'd lost weight. Like her, his body was athletic. He was wiry, his skin hardened from exposure. The only thing that hadn't changed were his eyes. Though clouded, they still held optimism. They gave Hermione hope. Her expression softened, and she lifted her hand, palming his cheek. Ron turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss against the inside of her hand. With a sigh, Hermione stepped closer and spoke quietly, intimately.

"It was the right thing to do, Ronald."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

With a small nod, Ron stepped back. He opened his mouth as though he were going to say something further but closed it. With a shrug, the Weasley forced a smile to his lips as he lifted a hand to his best friend's shoulder. He squeezed lightly, before he turned away. The gesture almost brought tears to her eyes. Her relationship with Ron had changed, and this time, it was his choice. As she watched his retreating back, Hermione couldn't help but speak out.

"I still love you, you know."

She watched as the tall wizard turned his head, flashing an open smile in her direction. As she heard his quiet response, Hermione's lips curved, a bittersweet smile, and she turned away to head toward her first class.

_"I love you too."_

* * *

><p><em>Thank you very much for reading :)<em>

_Beccorsola XxX_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi, guys. This Chapter is a bit shorter than the previous two, but hopefully you will still like it._

_As usual, much love goes to Blackfirm for being my faithful [unofficial] Beta and for both inspiring and encouraging me to write this story._

_Thanks also goes to ChevalierDeDame for reminding me about paragraphs! Chapter 1 and 2 have now been updated, and should be easier to read._

_Now I'll shush!_

* * *

><p>Flicking at her fringe impatiently, Hermione stepped through the open door into her Potions classroom and paused. Though she was early, she wasn't the only student in the room. Instinctively, a polite smile appeared on her lips as her name was called out in greeting. She didn't care for small talk, and didn't go over to them. Instead, she lifted a hand to give a little wave. She was the only Gryffindor in this particular class, something that hadn't surprised her. It was the Advanced class, after all.<p>

Wondering momentarily why she was standing around, Hermione remembered that school had only started three days ago. The seating arrangements hadn't been settled yet. With a one shouldered shrug, the brunette witch headed straight for the middle table. Reaching it, she dumped her heavy bag onto the desk and begun to take out all the necessaries. She could hear the other students, mainly from the Ravenclaw house, doing the same. She almost snorted, but stopped herself in time. Of course they'd copy her. She was Head Girl, as well as part of the bloody Golden Trio. Annoyance flashed in her eyes, and she closed them as she heard the stool beside hers scrape against the stone floor. She had no need to turn her head, see who it was. She knew who it would be.

Despite that, she opened an eye and caught Draco Malfoy's flinch. A dull flush appeared in his cheeks, and his head was downcast, eyes avoiding not only her gaze but the other students' interested looks. It was almost enough to make Hermione sympathise. But she wasn't made of weak stuff. He'd tough it out. Her lips curving with amusement, Hermione watched as Draco pulled out his quill, ink pot, blank parchments, relevant books and current coursework. Crooking an eyebrow, Hermione was interested to see that he seemed to have finished the essay that wasn't due until the following week. Looks like the Malfoy heir wasn't just brooding in his bedroom. Leaning in his direction, Hermione murmured softly, striking up a conversation with the only Slytherin in this classroom.

"Did you seriously finish that essay yourself? When did you get the time for that?"

Draco's body jerked in surprise, and his eyes flickered as he looked into the older girl's face. He didn't see any accusations, and forced himself to relax. It was bad enough that the entire bloody class was staring at him, the local Death Eater sitting beside the Golden Gryffindor. He didn't need to add to the gossip by jumping every time someone said hi to him, for crying out loud. Against his will, his flush deepened and Draco sat down on the stool, shuffling the wooden furniture forward. When he replied, his voice was low, scratchy from whispering.

"Yes. Last night."

Before Hermione could reply, though she wasn't sure what she would have said, the Potions professor appeared. Slamming the door close behind him, the short statured man glided toward the front of the room. Despite standing a mere 5'7 tall, he had a commanding aura around him that captivated your attention. His eyes sweeping over the classroom, the man gave a nod.

"I see everyone is in attendance today. I trust you all have "Advanced Potion-Making" by Libatius Borage? If not, get the hell out of my classroom."

Waiting a split second, Professor Gumtree's lips curled in satisfaction when nobody went to leave.

"Good, I'm impressed. If any of you have completed the assignment I handed out yesterday on why this class is relevant to every-day wizardry, please put it on my desk at the end of this lesson. I may have given a deadline of seven days, but really, the sooner the better. Today, I will be starting with Chapter One, Draught of Living Death. If I catch anyone whispering or wasting my time, I will be placing a Silencing Charm on you for the rest of this lesson. Turn your pages now, if you please."

* * *

><p>Distracted by his stomach rumbling, Draco's eyebrows knitted together as he reached out a hand. Touching something, he curled his fingers around the object and brought it within his sight. An apple. With a faint shrug, the wizard bit down into the fruit, licking at the juice that'd dripped down his chin. His eyes soon returned to the book he had spread on his lap.<p>

_If the individual affected with lycanthropy drink the potion prior to the full moon, only their bodies will transform.. they will retain control over their actions.. complicated recipe.. must be drunk once per day in the week leading up to the full moon_.

Damn. Inflicted with an uncomfortable sensation, Draco was concerned that they'd made a mistake. It'd now been thirty three days, and nothing noticeable had happened. He'd need to find out as soon as possible when the next full moon occurred. Frowning as he pulled up his class schedule mentally, he realized he wouldn't have the opportunity. He'd have to ask Granger.. Lifting his head to see if she was in the Halls, Draco instead watched as a familiar face headed his way. Familiar, and currently unwanted. Closing the book, the Slytherin dropped it into the open bag at his feet and waited for the confrontation.

"Draco dear, where the _fuck_ have you been?"

Without waiting for a response, ignoring the way Draco's body stiffened, Pansy Parkinson sat heavily on the bench opposite the fellow Slytherin. Flicking her hair, the movement dramatic, the young witch scowled impatiently.

"Well? Don't hold back on me, you bastard. First, you fuck up _royally_ with the whole Dumbledore thing, then you just disappear. Without a fucking word! Do you know what it's been like for me this entire summer? Well, I'll tell you. It sucked. What the hell have you been doing for the past two months?"

Sighing heavily, Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Pansy hadn't changed.

"Things came up."

"I know things came up! Don't think you can fob me off with that pathetic excuse, you stupid boy."

"Pansy.."

"No! I demand you explain right now!"

"No."

Judging by the witch's expression, Pansy hadn't expected Draco's quiet response. Recovering quickly, her face scrunched slightly – remnant of a pug – and she reached out a hand. Dropping it before she touched Draco, the girl replied. Her tone was different now, thoughtful.

"What _happened_ to you, Draco? You wouldn't have spoken like that last year. You're not behaving the way you're meant to. You should be shooting me that cute little sneer, putting me down for being so selfish. That's how we've always been, and it's not fair that you leave me for two months and come back all different. I've been here for three fucking days, and not once have you looked at me. That hurt, you idiot."

Ducking his head down, Draco attempted to hide his flushed cheeks. He didn't want to look into the Slytherin girl's eyes, which had never held any secrets from him. He had chosen to cut off contacts with Pansy, despite the relationship they shared, believing that she'd simply attach herself to Zabini and Nott. He had tried to forget that he meant something to the seventeen year old girl, tried to forget that he knew her intimate secrets. In fact, he had tried to make it look as if he'd died during the summer.

"Just.. Don't do it again. If you disappear without a word, I will fucking kill you. And stop avoiding me, you dolt."

When Draco looked up, he didn't have time to react. He should have expected it, really. Standing, Pansy leant across the table and pressed her full lips against Draco's thin lips. It was a surprisingly soft kiss, and Pansy followed it with a hand against Draco's neck, her thumb pressed lightly against his pulse. She didn't push him to open his mouth, content just to touch him in the first place. With a small sigh, she murmured against his lips.

"I missed you. Twat."

Sitting back down, the dark haired witch ignored the whisperings as she picked up a plate containing a chicken sandwich. Taking a big bite out of it, her eyes scanned Draco critically. He was too thin. Beautiful, of course, but too thin. His hair needed a trim. And his eyes.. His eyes. They made the breath catch in her throat. The boy in front of her wasn't her Draco, but hell if she was going to let that get in the way. She wasn't letting him go again.

"So dearie, what classes have you got this year? I'm telling you, someone is pissing on my parade. I chose good classes, but the professors are like, the worst! You wouldn't believe it.."

Listening to his childhood friend ramble on about her classes, not particularly paying much attention, Draco felt his lips curve slightly. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad if Pansy stayed in his life.

* * *

><p><em>Pansy enters the story! ;)<em>

_Thank you very much for reading, much appreciated ~_


	4. Chapter 4

Watching as the last student, a third year Hufflepuff, departed the classroom, Hermione stood from her seat and arched her body. A low groan slipped out of her lips as bones cracked and complained, and the witch shifted her hands to rub at her lower back. She'd been unexpectedly dragged into minding tonight's detention session, and as a result missed her dinner. Packing away her bags, she was satisfied with herself – she may not have planned to be babysitting a bunch of idiotic kids but she hadn't allowed that to prevent her from completing several essays for her classes. She even had time to jot down a few notes on the Wolfbane Potion. Discreetly, of course.

Hoisting the heavy bag onto her shoulder, the witch exited the room with plans already formulating in her head. She didn't have time to go to the Astronomy Towers tonight, so she would have breakfast in her room and find Professor Sinistra before her first lesson. She only had one class in the morning – Charms – which would be a doddle, so she'd speak to McGonagall after that. But now, she was going to her room and she was going to stuff her face. Merlin, she was _starving_.

Her walk confident, Hermione encountered little problems on her way to her dorm. She passed out stern warnings here and there to stragglers, but otherwise reached her portrait entry in no time. Exchanging pleasantries with the portrait occupant, Hermione gave out the password and lifted a hand in response to her call of 'good night!' Slipping into the room, the witch scanned the room. Draco wasn't in the common room. On her way to her personal bedroom however, her aim to dump her bag and change, Hermione noticed that the other bedroom's door was closed. Pausing, the brunette rapped on the wooden door smartly. It was a minute or two before she could faintly hear a creak, the door in front of her opening slightly.

"Yes?"

"Meet me in the kitchen in five minutes."

Turning away, Hermione ignored the Slytherin's sigh and slipped into her bedroom. Stripping off her uniform, she dropped them messily into the chest at the end of her bed. She'd sort them out later. Pulling on well worn jeans, the witch dug about before choosing a plain white t-shirt. Cladding her feet in polka dot socks, she made her way to the kitchen, bunching up her mane into a hasty bun. Seeing Draco was already sitting at the small dining table, Hermione smiled.

"Thanks for being quick. Have you eaten yet?"

".. No."

"I'll make us something then. Do you like melted cheese sandwich?"

"It is acceptable."

Bustling around the kitchen, Hermione got started on making their meal in the Muggle manner. As she sliced the cheese, she started speaking about the reason she'd pulled him out of his bedroom.

"You've probably already noticed, but the moons are being a bit iffy at the moment. I'm not sure yet when the next full moon is, but I'll talk to Professor Sinistra and McGonagall tomorrow morning. I also did a bit of research on Wolfsbane Potions. I dealt with them a little when Lupin worked here, but my memory's a bit vague. I think it'd be a good choice for you though, and I was thinking about perhaps doing a little mix. Add in a sleeping draught, to make you sleep through the change."

Holding two plates with the prepared sandwiches, Hermione paused to mutter a spell. As she walked over to where Draco sat, the food and culinary set put themselves away. Setting a plate in front of the blonde, the witch sat down opposite him and instantly took a bite of her meal.

"Oh, just delicious."

Hermione trailed off, too into her meal to even think properly. She'd actually been starving. When she arrived back at Hogwarts, she hadn't really thought through just how time consuming everything would be. She had her Head Girl duties, her classes, her research, friends.. Malfoy. Despite having two free periods today, she hadn't even had a chance to sit and take a breather. And she liked it. Strangely enough, despite her internal complaints, she liked that she didn't have time to stop and think. Polishing off her sandwich, Hermione sighed with bliss.

"Well, that's me done. About the Wolfsbane Potion, it would only completely work if you take it every day for a week following up to the full moon. If you miss even one day.."

"Yes, Granger. I'm fully aware of that. I've done my research as well."

The witch arched an eyebrow as Malfoy interrupted her but she kept her lips zipped. His tone had been low, unchanging from when they'd spoken earlier, and she wasn't going to argue with him. Okay, change of mind. She was.

"Oh, don't be so snotty. You're the one sitting there, mute. I'm honouring my promise by trying to help you with your condition and you've barely even said a single word to me. Did you expect _me_ to just sit around and fiddle my thumbs? If you did, I'm disappointed in you because you should know better by now."

Draco's cheeks didn't flush like Hermione had expected. Instead, he seemed to pale. His expression hardened, and he clenched his fists on the table top. After a moment, he flexed his long fingers. His eyes flickered, the first sign of life she'd seen over the past six weeks. In the two intense weeks she had spent on his broken body, battling to keep him alive, she had seen nothing in his eyes. It had chilled her to the bone. When he spoke, his voice was harsh, grating on her senses.

"Don't rub it in my face, Granger. I know better than anyone else just what is at risk here, and I do not need your superiority. If it weren't for your.. Allegiance with Snape, you would have nothing to do with this. Don't be so presumptuous to think that I'm merely hiding away in my bedroom, wiling away the hours. This is _my _fucking life. So believe me when I say _I know_. Is there anything else you needed?"

He was breathing hard. She'd pushed him into reacting, and it gave Hermione a thrill to see how much she could affect Malfoy. She knew she could push him further, and though it most certainly wasn't the right time – nor would it ever be -, Hermione found that she couldn't care less. Her lips curved into a flat smirk, leaning back into her seat.

"Oh, hello Malfoy. It's nice to see you're back. I'm barely managing to hold back my joy that you seem to have regained your communicational skills. If you don't want me to be.. presumptuous.. then you're going to have to speak to me. Daily. With words. No grunting. Now answer me about my suggestion on mixing the Wolfsbane Potion with a sleeping draught. It's your body, so you have to make the decision. I'm the one who'll be getting everything you need, so it's important that we work together. I completely understand that we're not going to be sweet little best friends, that it's not likely that we'll go frolicking through the Forbidden Forest and have picnics, but the fact is, we have to work together. Otherwise it won't be just your life that's messed up."

Even though her tone was cool, snarky, Hermione's heart was pounding. At some point during her snipe, her eyes had met Draco's – and he hadn't looked away. She could see the precise moment he inwardly snapped, the colours of his grey eyes darkening. His lashes lowered, giving him a rakish appearance. His movements were controlled, his body lithe as he stood up slowly. Hermione didn't flinch when he reached over the table, gripping her chin roughly with his slender fingers. She barely remembered to breathe when he lifted her face toward his, watching as something positively lupine flashed in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was piercing and his warm breath brushed against her skin. She couldn't hold back the instinctive shudder.

"Really? What a cute little speech you have there, Granger. It's my body, my decision? What an absolute load of bullshit. You and your fucking mind games, I'm sick of them. You think I don't see what you're doing? Always fucking there in the background, waiting for me to slip up."

Despite his harsh words, Draco released his death grip on Hermione's chin. He didn't let her go, however, instead trailing his fingers along her jaw line. His brain felt clogged up, and he couldn't make sense of his thoughts. He just felt the powerful need to fall in to his urges, but he didn't understand what they were. Lifting Hermione's chin, the scent of jasmine cloyed up his senses. He needed to get closer. His fingers withdrawing from Hermione's jaw, Draco stepped around the table and glanced down, perusing the witch's face. Something unreadable flashed in her eyes, but her body was stiff, unmoving. Draco's lips formed a crooked smirk in response, and he lifted his hand to grip Hermione's neck. As her lips gaped over in surprise, he tightened his hold.

Hermione's mind was jumbled up, screeching at her to move, to react. But she couldn't – she honestly felt as though she'd turned to stone. Her body was reacting as though she were under a spell, but she had neither heard nor felt one. The only thing she had done was meeting Malfoy's eyes, watching the moment his irises snapped from silver to a stormy grey. Feeling the Slytherin's grip around her neck, Hermione couldn't help but gasp. Watching his lips curve, the movement transforming his expression, the witch caught the look in his eyes. She'd seen it before.. Cursing herself, Hermione finally understood.

"You know, I could snap your lovely little neck right at this very moment. It wouldn't be any effort. It's so very tempting, especially as I can feel your pulse under my fingers. It's strong, much like you."

"Malfoy.."

Draco's eyes narrowed sharply at the whisper, his fingertips pressing into the skin of her neck.

"Malfoy, you have to let me go."

_No, you don't._

_Don't listen to the Mudblood, she doesn't get it._

_Take her, you know you want to. Can't you hear her heartbeat?_

_She wants you to take her. Look at her neck – how can you ignore that?_

_It's so smooth, unblemished; She's practically begging you to rip her apart. _

_Go on, Malfoy._

_Taste her._

"Malfoy, listen. Listen, dammit!"

Of all the bloody wand-less spells she knew, not one were of use in this particular situation. Cursing herself for leaving her wand in her bedroom – something she'd not be doing again -, Hermione raised her voice. She had to get Malfoy back. Wincing as the wizard's grip dug into her throat, his unyielding fingertips sure to leave bruises, Hermione examined his clouded eyes. She had to get through the fog.

"Malfoy!"

Draco's body jolted as though he'd been electrocuted, the screech efficiently piercing his thoughts. Confused, Draco's eyebrows knitted together and his lips flattened into a straight line. Feeling Hermione shift, he loosened his fingers from around her neck. Instantly, the witch stepped back, her hands flying up to massage her throat. He dropped his hands to his side, his body tense. What had just happened?

"Jesus, Malfoy."

Rubbing her sensitive skin, Hermione kept her eyes trained on Malfoy's expression – utterly shell shocked. Biting her tongue, Hermione forced herself to hold back. She wanted nothing more than to lash out at the Slytherin, but this time, it really wasn't the right moment. He had lost control, and judging by his manner, it was an unnerving experience for the blonde. Hermione studied the way Malfoy's tense body drooped, his breath slowly wheezing from his tight lips. His fists unclenched, and his slim fingers fluttered against his thighs. Draco Malfoy was back in control. Despite the inappropriateness, Hermione couldn't help but smile faintly. Despite how screwed up he was, at least Malfoy wasn't rolling over and accepting his 'fate'. It made her feel that perhaps all her efforts weren't a complete waste. When Malfoy finally spoke, his voice strained, she almost missed it.

"I'm sorry."

"I.. I accept your apology."

The two fell into silence, awkward due to Malfoy's apology. As the wizard took a step backward, leaning against the dining table, Hermione shrugged her shoulder instinctively. When she spoke, her voice was impartial and slightly prim – the voice that people referred to as 'know-it-all'.

"Unfortunately, I think we're too late in regards to you taking the Wolfsbane potions. I saw your eyes, Malfoy.. And you weren't yourself. I won't press you on it because we both lost control. However, I won't apologize for my part. I will still speak to Professor Sinistra tomorrow morning, but she'll most likely just confirm my suspicion that the full moon will appear within the next five or six days. We will have to speak to McGonagall immediately – we need to discuss this and make arrangements. Malfoy?"

"Ah.. Yes. I have a free period before lunch. Would that be satisfactory for you?"

"Yes, thank you."

Their interactions painfully polite, both the witch and wizard once again fell into silence. And once again, it was Hermione who broke the quiet – this time with a puff of loud breath. Straightening up, she dropped her hands to her sides and stepped forward.

"Well.. I'm going to retire for the evening. I'm rather tired."

Not expecting a response, the brunette took another step forward with the intention of passing the wizard. Instead, she stalled when the tall blonde stood from his perch on the dining table.

"Is.. Are you okay? Your neck, I mean."

Quirking an eyebrow in surprise, Hermione lifted her hand to her neck.

"I'm fine, Malfoy. I've had worse."

"_I suppose you have._"

Murmuring quietly to himself, Draco conceded to the witch with a brief nod. They had nothing left to say to each other, and Hermione glided past him in silence. The blonde teenager watched as she walked up the spiral staircase, listened as she turned the doorknob and closed the door firmly behind her. Only then did he let out the breath he had been holding in, and he looked down at his hands. He could still feel the lingering sensation of Hermione's skin, the vague memory of her warmth and smooth skin unwelcome. His body shuddered instantly, and Draco frowned. Wiping his palms against his thighs heavily, a vain attempt to rid the phantom sensations, the blonde turned and walked toward his bedroom. He too would be having an early night, assisted by histrusty Dream-less potion. Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day.

* * *

><p><em>Hi, guys. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter as unfortunately, it'll be the last for a little while. <em>

_I haven't yet completed the next chapter, and I will be moving to a city four hours drive away on Monday 13th - I am unsure when I'll get my internet back._

_Not to worry though, I intend to write up more chapters for this story. Perhaps also one-shots as my friend Blackfirm has heavily inspired me ~_

_Thank you very much for reading and for adding this to your Alerts and your Favs. It really is very much appreciated, honestly. You guys are lovely :)_

_Reviews would be lovely, by the way!_

_Beccorsola XxX_


	5. Chapter 5

Despite his dispassionate expression, despite his blank eyes and seemingly impartial attitude, Draco was conflicted. He withheld a sigh, deeply reluctant to draw more attention. As he strode through numerous hallways, he found his path clear. His reputation had proceeded him, and the young students from all Houses actively avoided him. It wasn't just the young students either – his fellow year (Slytherins included) were giving him a wide berth. Once, he would have revelled in this. Enjoyed that he still held power. He could make people flinch with a look, he could make conversations stumble to a stop. Now, however, it shamed him. Reproachful stares dug into his back, scandalized mutters nipped at his heels.

His Head Boy badge glimmered as he passed by open windows, and his lips betrayed signs of embitterment. Only those who were close to the blonde would recognize the smile, and they wouldn't pursue the matter. In fact, those Draco considered to be in his posse were those who had turned their backs on him. He couldn't say he was surprised – he would have done the same. Holding in another sigh, Draco slipped down a quiet corridor as his mind took a break and went over his duties. He was allowed the position, but it came with strings attached. He was to do his patrols in the daytime. McGonagall had been very firm on this condition – he had to work to earn their trust.

Turning a corner, Draco slowed as he watched two sixth years – a Gryffindor and Ravenclaw – abruptly halt, mutter intensely amongst themselves and twist away with haste. He didn't even raise his eyebrow. Draco headed back to the main hallways. He was used to that type of behaviour. He was fully aware – how could he not be? – that there were many people in Hogwarts who wanted him punished for his part in Dumbledore's death and the Death Eater attack before the summer. Also, he was fully aware that he was protected only due to his Head Boy status and his silence. The first reason was understandable – McGonagall had stood in public and declared her support for Draco Malfoy. She still commanded utter respect, being the Headmistress as well as for being Minerva McGonagall. The second reason took time. Well. It was still ongoing, but he could hear speculative discussions on his behaviour.

He was sick of it. They gossiped truth, and it needled away at him.

_Yeah, it's kinda weird – he doesn't even talk. Well, he does but only when he has to. Like in his classes or for his Head Boy duties. He doesn't even say Mudblood, and this is Malfoy we're talking about. And he even sits next to Hermione Granger. By choice! Do you think they have a thing? Do you think they have something on him? The Slytherins in seventh year are ignoring him, did you know? Well, except for Pansy Parkinson, but she's a slag so she doesn't count. He doesn't even hang out with her that much anyways, and they were like.. Dating. Before.. Y'know. Do you think she knew? Oh, and he's been beaten up already. It's the weirdest thing ever – he just kinda stands there. He doesn't even try and defend himself now. The first night, I heard a bunch of seventh years – I dunno what Houses, I think it was Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Maybe Hufflepuff. Not Slytherins though, they're ignoring him. Yeah anyways, I heard they just cornered him and beat him to a pulp. A pulp! And he just let them. Why is he even here anyways..?_

The quiet mutters dug at his ears, causing him physical pain. Couldn't these people just shut the fuck up? Stopping momentarily, Draco was given relief as a hush fell onto the lunchtime crowd around him. It was all too fleeting, however. The silence was invasive, speculative. Raking his bony fingers through his hair, the movement deceptively casual, Draco stepped forward and re-began his lunchtime patrol. He was followed by the whispers, and the wizard considered briefly throwing himself out the window.

_Only noon of day four._

_Only._

* * *

><p>Approaching the open doors of the Great Hall, Draco slowed slightly. So far, he hadn't dined in the main gathering area and he wouldn't today. Ignoring the curious looks as he paused in the middle of the doorway, the blonde wizard's eyes scanned the staff's table. McGonagall wasn't there. He nodded once to himself, continuing on his way. He would head back to the Head quarters he shared with his unwilling sentry, his lunch patrol complete. As he turned his back, he missed the petite form of a dark haired witch getting up from the Slytherin's table. His mind back to being clouded with thoughts, none pleasant, he missed his name being called. His ears accustomed to the whispers, he also missed the loud puffs of a fast approaching girl.<p>

"Draco! Oi!"

Turning his head promptly, a faint frown sketched into his face, Draco's body tensed up. Recognising the voice as well as the person, he relaxed slightly. Slightly. His eyes roved over the delicate body of Pansy Parkinson as she approached, out of habit. As she stopped before him, her hands planted on her curvy hips, the wizard gave a slight nod in greeting.

"Bloody hell, you must have a lot on your mind. I was yelling after you for like, a solid five minutes."

"I apologize."

"Poo."

Dismissing the apology with a hand wave, Pansy's full lips curved into an odd mixture of a half smile, half sneer. It was such a Pansy gesture, Draco couldn't help but respond to the familiarity. His body loosened, his uptight shoulders dropping. The witch's eyes were sharp, and she didn't miss the response. With a small laugh, she leant in slightly and planted her palm lightly against Draco's chest – she craved the intimacy she'd always shared with the boy from her childhood. Just as she ignored the scornful mutters directed at her, she also deftly ignored the way Draco's body steeled in reaction.

"How are you today?"

"Ah.. I.. It's.. I'm fine. Thank you."

Pansy couldn't stop the instinctive hurt, the eyebrow rise, but she could stop her mouth from running. Reminding herself that Draco had changed, Pansy wondered – not for the first time – what had happened in the summer. Her father had stubbornly and, at times, violently refused to spill the beans. Scouring Draco's appearance, she just knew that the man – for he was one now – wouldn't be confiding in her anymore. His change was permanent. It would have been so easy for her to fall in to Draco's silent wish to be left alone, so easy to follow Blaise, Theo, Goyle as they turned their backs on him. But she just couldn't. No, she wasn't going to ignore the loneliness in his eyes, nor would she ignore that he seemed to hurt with every breath he took. Plus, she was selfish. She needed Draco – without him, she felt as though a piece of her were missing. No, she wouldn't be leaving him. When she spoke, her voice was soft – a tone reserved for true friends.

"That's lovely to hear. Even though you're lying, but we'll pretend I don't know that."

Before Draco could respond, Pansy dropped her hand from the blonde's chest to cup his hand, squeezing his fingers gently. He closed his eyes in response, a small sigh puffing from his thin lips – taking advantage, Pansy took one step forward and went onto her tiptoes. While Draco had shot up over the summer, the witch had remained 5'4 and now had to strain to reach him. Just as the wizard opened his eyes, his childhood friend pressed her lips against his. Though he stiffened, Draco found nothing but reassurance in the kiss. Dropping back down, Pansy's lips crooked though she didn't smile.

"You're just too lovely, Draco Malfoy. I'll see you around."

The wizard paused, his lips slightly agape, as he gave her a hard look. She could see the suspicion in his eyes, and responded by giving him an open look. She had never kept secrets from him, and she wouldn't start now. Seemingly satisfied with what he found in her eyes, Draco's head inclined and he took a step back. Forced to release his digits, Pansy watched as the wizard turned, slipping through the speculative crowd. Used to being observed at all times, the witch intentionally made her expression bland, made her lips curve into a snarky smirk. Shrugging off the wondering gazes, Pansy turned and headed back to the Great Hall to rejoin her peers.

* * *

><p>As he approached the canvas protecting the entryway to the Head quarters, Draco found himself engaged in small talk with the occupant. Not wanting to offend the character, he responded politely to the buxom woman's enquiries and updated her on the daily happenings amongst his classes. When Madame Lucie praised him for the high result he'd received on his latest Potions essay, Draco rewarded her with a rare smile of pleasure. Shaking his head as she swooned, he murmured the password and laughed shortly as she called out her enthusiastic goodbyes when he stepped into the dorm room.<p>

As the door closed behind him, Draco held back a wince at the sound and stepped into the small personal kitchen. Opening the appropriate cupboards, he pulled out a plate and cutleries. Turning toward the fridge, Draco scanned the contents before pulling out a platter containing cooked chicken. As he made himself a chicken sandwich, the desire for raw meat shot through him, leaving behind a trail of repulsion. He had suffered these pangs for the past few months, and still refused to bend to his body's urges. Greyback may have made him a beast, but underneath it all, he was still a Malfoy. From the moment he was born, he had the mantra of control and pride drilled into him. He viewed his physical desire for raw bloody meat as a weakness, a sign of what could come if he gave in. He couldn't hide the worry from himself that if he succumbed to his need to devour, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back in other aspects.

His mind flashed back to the previous night. Frowning as vague images flickered behind his eyes, Draco clenched his hands onto the counter.

"_You know, I could snap your lovely little neck right at this very moment. It wouldn't be any effort. It's so very tempting, especially as I can feel your pulse under my fingers. It's strong, much like you."_

Dropping his head to his chest, Draco released a heavy sigh. He had wanted to press his lips against her enticing neck, had wanted to lick the faint freckles, had wanted to nip at the pulse that had throbbed below her ear. He had wanted to utterly devour the girl. Frowning as his body hummed in response, Draco was assailed by flashes of emotions that he had experienced at the time. Anger, bitterness, hunger.. Lust. Letting out a curse, Draco ran his fingers through his white blonde hair. He did not fucking desire Hermione Granger. He didn't. Shaking his head, the wizard picked up his sandwich and released an 'ugh' as he lost his appetite. Forcing himself to eat, however, the Slytherin thought back to the brunette witch. Hermione Granger was a slab of raw meat. Just another urge he would ignore. That was all.

Finishing his small meal, Draco did not leave the dish out for a House Elf to clean up after him as expected. Instead, he picked up the plate, approached the sink in the small kitchen and turned on the hot water tap. As the water heated up, the young man washed, dried and put away the utilities. Anyone who had known the wizard before the summer would have been surprised, to say the least, to see the young Malfoy move through the kitchen with an ease, with familiarity. Hanging up the cheerfully patterned tea towel he held in his hands, the Slytherin departed the kitchen area and headed toward a sofa in the living room he shared with Hermione. Nabbing his bag along the way, Draco checked the time and noticed it was near the end of lunch break. Sitting down and making himself comfortable, the wizard pulled out both written on and blank parchments, several Potions books as well as his ink and quills. He had a free period following lunch, and would be using the opportunity to get started on his assignments.

Professor Gumtree, Snape's replacement in his Potions class, had been assigning Draco with additional essays. Though Draco knew the new teacher was unaware of his student's situation, the blonde wouldn't be surprised if he held his suspicions. He had known Snape personally, had mixed in his circles occasionally – though not in regards to his Death Eater activities. Draco knew this only because the short man had pulled him aside on the first day, before their first lesson together. He had made it clear that Draco would have to knuckle down this year, education wise.

The blonde wizard was aware that no other students in his class – not even Hermione Granger – were being treated the same, and he assumed that it was due to either Snape or McGonagall. His other teachers hadn't yet given him extra assignments, but Draco was unperturbed by this. Potions had always been his favourite class, a class he had always tried just that bit harder to succeed in. And so, on this occasion, he put up no fuss. He actually didn't mind the extra work – in fact, he was enjoying the opportunity to further use his brain.

Draco didn't like to dwell on the fact, but he had seriously thought - several times - that he was going to die over the previous three months.. Had even come to terms with his mortality. He didn't know just how he had managed to survive, and he hadn't asked – Snape wouldn't have answered his questions. He had been given another chance at life, and he had been shamed by his past. When his godfather had curtly informed him that he would be returning to Hogwarts for the final year, despite Voldemort's growing reign, the young wizard hadn't spoken of his fear. Instead, he had met Severus Snape's sullen eyes and thanked him. The older wizard had been uncomfortable, but Draco refused to back down on the matter. He owed the man his life, and would eternally be in his debt, whether Snape wanted it or not.

Pausing to find a certain chapter in his _Moste Potente Potions_ book, Draco reflected on the struggle he had to obtain the material from the Restricted Section of the Library. Madam Irma Prince had glowered at the blonde wizard, her manner snappish. Even as he produced a note from the replacement Professor, the librarian had still regarded him distrustfully before bowing down. Remembering the warning in her eyes, the young man treated the book with care. Finding the required section, Draco yawned slightly as he completed the conclusion of his essay. Placing his quill onto the tabletop, he rolled his shoulders and checked the time.

Calculating what time he had left, the wizard figured he had just enough time to get across the castle to drop off his assignment in Professor Gumtree's office and get to his next class. Making the snap decision, he gathered together his educational necessities and stored them away into his schoolbag. Hesitating over his _Moste Potente Potions_ book, Draco slipped it inside his bag – he would return it to Madam Prince after his classes. No doubt she'd be eager to have it back as soon as possible. Slipping on his House robes, the tall wizard scanned the living quarters for any sign of mess before stepping back, satisfied. Within minutes, he was heading down the always moving staircases toward the mostly quiet corridors.

* * *

><p><em>Hi, guys, I'm back. I'm sorry for the long long long wait! My moving went really well, but I didn't get internet for three weeks. Then I had a bit of a writers' block.<em>

_But here we are. I hope you enjoy this chapter, reviews are very much appreciated and wanted :)_

_I'd like to thank my Beta, Nele (Blackfirm on here) for her patience and help 3_


	6. AN

**A/N**

Hallo, guys. To start this off, I want to thank so many of you for adding my story to your Alerts and thank you to the people who have added reviews. I really have appreciated it. But unfortunately, I've started suffering from writer's block, and it's extremely frustrating! I absolutely love my story, I love how the characters work together and I love how it ends – all in my head, of course – but I'm a first time writer. Though I'm happy with what I have written, I'm not happy with the pace. I feel like I've jumped the boat slightly, and by doing so, I've missed the opportunity to be more detailed. This actually really bothers me, and I've come to the decision that I will be re-starting this story. This doesn't mean that I am changing EVERYTHING – it just means that I want to include more detail and information from the beginning. This will take me a little while to get everything sorted, but I will post again with the link to the new version.

Thank you so much for your support, and I'm sorry about this abrupt change.

To tide you over, why not go to my friend – and loyal Beta –'s Dramoine story?

**http : / www. fanfiction .net /s/7045555/1/A_Serpent_in_Lions_Clothing**

_[ Take away the spaces in the above link ]_

Much love,

Beccorsola.


End file.
